As she resumed her seat, she cast a rueful glance at her gray gown. “I did.”
“By God, I hope you made a pauper of me.”
A self-derisive laugh escaped her. “Far from it. I didn’t find much that I liked.”
He looked disappointed. She could imagine he was nearly as sick of her uninspiring wardrobe as she was. “Didn’t you order anything?”
She shrugged without enthusiasm and took a sip of her wine. “An evening gown.” And wished she hadn’t. The yellow taffeta with busy black trim made her look like a wasp. “And two day dresses.”
His lips lengthened in disapproval. “Susan got a little too insistent, did she?”
Jane ignored that, although it was true. Her sister had rejected anything Jane leaned toward ordering as too fast for a young matron. “I’ll try again. I don’t want to let you down.”
The prospect of the knowing smiles when Lord Garson’s frump of a bride appeared in public made her pride cringe. She might know she was second best, but that didn’t mean she had to look like she was.
Oh, dear, she’d been so happy. Now bitter reality battered at the door and barged inside without an invitation to make itself at home. She much preferred the sugar-spun fantasy where her husband thought only of her and was overcome with joy that he’d chosen her.
“You’re a credit to me, whatever you do, Jane.”
Jane only just resisted saying how kind he was. He didn’t like hearing that, even if it was true. She made an apologetic gesture. “I thought of getting some new dresses before the wedding, but the village seamstress is as woefully ignorant of current modes as I am. I decided I’d wait until we got to Beardsley Hall and ask the local ladies where they buy their clothes. Then plans changed, and we came to London instead.”
“It’s hardly an insurmountable problem, sweetheart.” Hugh set his glass on a side table and took her hand. “We’re at the heart of a worldwide empire, and I have plenty of money. I’m sure we can lay our hands on a few bits and pieces to bring you up to scratch.”
She summoned a smile and told herself that he didn’t mean anything when he called her sweetheart. “I’ll ask Susan if she wants to come shopping again.”
“I’ve got a better idea.” When he looked so pleased with himself, like a little boy who had done his Latin translation to his tutor’s satisfaction, her heart gave a strange lurch. Briefly the room reeled around her and all she saw was Hugh’s face.
“Oh?” The odd reaction receded, but left her unsettled.
“I’ll ask Caro to help you. Or perhaps Helena. She’s Silas’s sister and married to Lord West. Helena’s always up to the minute. Most stylish woman I know.”
Jane ripped her hand free and began to pleat her plain skirts. “That won’t be suitable.”
Hugh frowned, his self-satisfaction fading. “I thought you liked Caro. You seemed to get along at the wedding.”
“Of course I liked her.” Jane bit her lip and didn’t look at him. “She’s very nice. So is Lord Stone.”
“I see.”
When the silence extended, she made herself glance at him. His austere expression told her he did indeed see.
“I know these people are your friends,” she said miserably.
To her surprise, he reached out to still the busy fingers that turned her unimpressive gown into a creased mess. “They could become your friends, too.”
Wondering how she could leap from elation to such confused awkwardness in the space of half an hour, she swallowed. She made herself speak the fatal name. “Morwenna is married to Silas and Helena’s brother.”
She braced for anger, but the eyes that studied her were thoughtful instead of condemning. “We live in a small world, Jane. You’ll have to lock yourself away in a cellar, if you intend to avoid everyone connected with Morwenna. You must have known when we came to London that you’d bump up against reminders of my previous engagement.”
She’d known. She wasn’t a fool. But that didn’t mean she had to become bosom bows with people so closely connected with her rival.
Shock shuddered through her. Her rival? What nonsense was that? With a shaking hand, she set her glass on the table near her elbow.
Morwenna had already won this particular race, whether she wanted to come in first or not. Jane was perpetually assigned to last place. A fact that grew more depressing by the day.
Hugh’s voice deepened with the compassion that was such an essential part of his nature. “I know this is difficult, but there are advantages to facing your fears.” A smile lightened his somber expression. “As I’m sure I don’t have to tell you.”
He referred to what a namby-pamby twit she’d been on their wedding night. “I suppose so,” she said reluctantly.